


Autumn

by LadyHeliotrope



Series: Love and Other "Snail Mail" Stories [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidents, Autumn, Baby Names, Bicycles, Chubby Severus Snape, Dogs, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Good Severus Snape, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Living Together, Loss, Married Life, Pregnancy, Romantic Fluff, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Severus Snape Lives, Slice of Life, chubby Hermione Granger, cottage, hygge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25126456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHeliotrope/pseuds/LadyHeliotrope
Summary: A pregnant Hermione decides to drag Severus out on a bike ride one beautiful autumn day. They banter about baby names, encounter their neighbor's dog, and reflect on life.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Series: Love and Other "Snail Mail" Stories [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803445
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61
Collections: Hearts & Cauldrons Snail Mail Exchange, Hearts and Cauldrons Discord Members, Hot Buttered Cottage Prawn





	Autumn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [turtle_wexler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtle_wexler/gifts).



> Autumn for Turtle_Wexler  
> Content note: exercise, physical accident, pregnancy feels, conception issues and miscarriage worries (only indirectly relevant; anecdotal mention)

Though she loved their lakefront cottage, Hermione was getting sick and tired of it. The summer boat rides and picnics were over, and the water looked black and ominous through the old-fashioned bay window. Orange and gold had been taunting her for weeks through their cottage's smoky skylights, reds and browns simultaneously fading and darkening, a kaleidoscope constantly in flux. She felt a wildness stir in her breast, and a calling to leave the indoors behind to embrace a more solitary life where she communed with only forest creatures. 

The past ten years had been a blur as rich and flavorful as an impressionist painting: 

…it had been _one_ year ago that they’d moved into this idyllic setting and permanently left their flat in London; 

…it had been _two_ years ago that Severus retired permanently from Hogwarts with an exceptional pension and an eye towards independent potions development; 

…it had been _three_ years ago that Severus succumbed to a hypertensive crisis that led to him being hospitalized, and a consequent decision that his days as a teacher were winding down;

…it had been _four_ years ago that they’d been married, in a beautiful small ceremony in northwest Norfolk in May;

…it had been _five_ years ago that she’d finished her potions mastery with him; 

…it had been _six_ years ago that he’d realized he was in love with her;

…it had been _seven_ years ago that she’d badgered him to supervise her second, more practical mastership and he’d accepted;

…it had been _eight_ years ago that Hermione finished her arithmancy mastership and he’d recovered from his status of presumed-dead; 

…it had been _nine_ years ago that she uncovered an arithmantic equation that informed her that she carried a torch for a (presumed) dead man;

…it had been _ten_ years ago that she threw herself wholeheartedly into a mastership guaranteed to distract her entirely from her messy breakup with Ron;

…and it had been _eleven_ years after the momentous 1998 Battle of Hogwarts. 

"We need to get _out_ ," Hermione whinged, poking a stocking-foot into Severus' ribs. It was nice to feel some _give_ there instead of hard ridges.

He grunted, beginning to rouse himself out of his book. She let her foot settle on his upper thigh, where she gently tickled his stomach with her big toe.

Since he had finally relaxed into retirement, Severus wasn’t stressed all the time. This meant that he actually _ate_ something, for once in his life. It made her proud. He was finally losing that hungry stray-cat look that had haunted him since his adolescence; now his frame was fuller, and when he was sitting comfortably on the couch, a touch of stomach settled upon his lap with appealing softness.

She liked to tease him about it, though only lightly – his ever-present insecurity meant she had to affirm, regularly, that she wouldn't have him any other way. How could she be anything but delighted when the extra weight brought out his one-sided dimple? 

Being pregnant with their first meant that she, too, was rounding out a little. It was nice to not be alone in that, but she also wanted to start some new... less indoorsy routines.

“We need a bit of exercise,” she complained, stretching and yawning prettily. “Did you ever sell those bikes from the previous owners?”

“Hm.” Severus removed his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose, and seemed to have missed the question. She was about to prompt him again until he answered, “No, they’re still in the shed.” He inhaled, exhaled, then put his glasses in their case, where they lived for all times except when he was reading. He put the case methodically in the breast pocket of his sage-green button-down shirt, then rested the book on the side-table. He switched off the Tiffany-style reading lamp and then sighed at the autumn afternoon darkness.

"Why'd you turn the light off?" she asked after a moment.

He sighed, and stood with creaking limbs. "Because I know you won't let grass grow under your feet, witch. And, lest you forget your geriatric husband, I need a moment to gather my strength for such an adventure."

She laughed merrily at that, and he stretched his languorous limbs, and then together they went outside to the side-yard.

..........................

In practically no time at all, they were all ready to go. Hermione had to shrink down her bike a bit to fit her frame, but this was a breeze. They had no helmets, nor any athletic type gear, but that suited Hermione just fine. She knew Severus would never, in a thousand years, submit to such an indignity as biking shorts. (She had this thought ruefully, of course.) 

While she’d filled up the tires with a careful _aersatiata_ , he’d gone into the house and, after a bit, brought out a basket that he lashed to the flat cargo space on his bike.

“Where do we go?” Severus asked. He wore a black Muggle pea-coat over his sage-green shirt, and a gray tweed scally cap that, while distinctly not his usual style, seemed to suit him. 

“I don’t know,” Hermione mused, looking out over the tree-lined winding road that went in either direction from their home. “We might go to town.”

He remained mute on the point, allowing her to infer that he wasn’t particularly thrilled with that idea.

“Or…” she went on, “we _could_ take the path that leads behind the Gershold estate.”

“Which we haven’t taken before,” Severus answered, though he was already turning himself in the indicated direction. “Do you know where it goes?”

“I haven’t the foggiest,” Hermione answered, smiling at him and, courageously, she mounted and began to drive.

“I haven’t done this in decades,” Severus confessed, watching her with hesitation as she rode away from him. The panic in his eyes was eclipsed by determination, however, as she got farther and father ahead. Soon enough, he pushed off and was hurrying to catch up with her, looking as absolutely natural as could be. “At least the fall wouldn’t be so bad as from a broom,” he observed, once he was coasting at her side.

“I like this a lot more,” Hermione responded, her eyes wandering to look up at the autumn leaves that now felt so much closer, but yet so much further, than when she saw them through the skylight. The sun streamed through the golds and reds and dappled the sandy road. It reminded her of being in a gothic church, with panes of aged stained glass that seemed to ache with sacred pondering.

She lost her thoughts, though, as the tire went over a small rock and the entire bicycle wobbled unpleasantly. She screamed a little bit, and Severus immediately stopped and rounded on her. 

His eyes betrayed his flash of concern, and it did not fade even when she haltingly passed him.

“I’m fine,” she reassured, trying to sound stable as she regained her balance. Suspicious but not arguing, Severus followed, paying closer attention to her riding than before. 

After a few minutes of his steady hyper-vigilance creeping over her shoulders, she objected, “I’m fine, love, really.” 

His rumbling response to her was, “Best not to forget - you’re not riding alone. I wouldn’t want…” 

The implication was subtle, but there. He was worried for the baby if she fell. 

“You’re right,” Hermione answered, validating his concern despite feeling that it was typical Severus exaggeration. “I’ll be careful.” 

“Right then.” A moment passed, where she wondered what else was running through his mind, when he seemed to sense it and elaborated, “Not that I’m overly concerned for...what could become _her_ …but I don’t want you to have to suffer.” 

Hermione quirked her head at him in question, and he added, “Narcissa struggled to bring an heir to term for years. At Lucius’ behest, I provided her with potion supplements to mitigate some of the distress, in the aftermath of her failed attempts. Her physical and emotional...suffering...has remained with me.” 

That hadn’t been Hermione’s point of curiosity though - the fact that he had already assigned a gender to their unborn child was interesting. He seemed to be getting attached to the idea of being a father. 

And she reflected gratefully that some men would care more about their progeny than their wives, and her heart filled with warmth at the knowledge that she’d never have to worry about that with Severus. 

So, she decided not to correct his misapprehension. His rare self-disclosure was a gentle flower that she would always nurture, whenever it appeared. 

…………………………...

They rode in silence for a while. A dinging noise and a cheerful bark alerted them that their neighbor’s free-roaming golden retriever, Maude, was approaching. Severus outwardly grimaced - he had yet to grow fond of dogs - but Hermione took a moment to stop and provide pets for the sunny-dispositioned middle-aged pup.

“How are you, lovely?” Hermione cooed as she scratched right in the _perfect_ place behind Maude’s ears, and the dog leaned into the warmth. “Yes, that’s a good girl.”

“Let’s be off,” Severus cajoled, keeping his distance from the creature.

Hermione pouted, but gracefully remounted. Maude, with a pleasant bark of excitement, followed happily.

“Can’t you… make it go away?” Severus begged, determinedly staring ahead of them. He wasn’t scared - or at least, if he was, he didn’t seem so, to Hermione’s trained eye - but he was uncomfortable. 

“I’m sorry, love,” she answered, doing absolutely nothing to stave off the animal. “Animals have a mind all their own. She’ll tire eventually.”

He grumbled, but didn’t argue. She appreciated his abstinence on this point. Sometimes when they were just puttering about the house, she would forget how different he was from how he used to be. He’d become incredibly tolerant in their years together - and in good time, because that would be especially necessary once the baby came. 

It made her feel proud of him, and herself. He had come so far, and some of that intensive work she’d put into helping him grow past his traumas was making a difference. 

..........................

After around an hour of riding, the two took advantage of a bridge-crossing to stop and rest. They pulled to the side of the road, spread out their picnic, and settled into repose.

The air was crisp and cooler than when they’d left the cottage, and Hermione buttoned up her jacket.

“Have a sandwich.” Severus thrust bread spread with home-made smoked fish paste at her. While she’d never been partial to the tinned variety, something about Severus’ recipe was craveable.

Perhaps it was the pregnancy hormones, but she couldn’t get enough of it.

“Thanks, love,” she breathed, laying down on the checkered tablecloth that passed as a picnic blanket. The leaves above her shone bright and gold against the pure-blue sky. There were no clouds to be seen, and the sunshine caught in her eye and blazed with fury. “This is a lovely place to pause.”

“We’re turning back once we’ve refreshed ourselves,” Severus murmured in a non-sequitur, as usual reluctant to join in to her observation of the obvious.

They’d had some couple’s therapy sessions about his tendency to be more pessimistic than her, and he now knew not to shut her down if she had a comment that he didn’t empathize with. He hadn’t quite mastered the “verbal agreement if appropriate” bit, though - so he tended to just not answer sometimes out loud. It didn’t quite fit with his mental wiring, to agree to something vocally when he felt it did not need to be said.

This, of course, was the nuanced explanation as to why giving out praise was so hard for him to do. Good work was obviously good on the merit that it had nothing wrong with it.

Hermione was beginning to learn how to roll with a somewhat silent partner, though sometimes she had to clarify whether he was approving or disapproving at any given moment, if it wasn’t immediately obvious from his body language or facial expression. At this moment, his face was neutral, which meant he agreed with her despite the non-acknowledgement. 

“Have you given more thought to the names I suggested?” Hermione offered after a few voracious bites of sandwich.

“I have.” He frowned in recollection, and nodded. “I liked Juno.”

Hermione laughed. “That’s it? What if it’s a boy?”

He shook his head, too serious by half. “It isn’t. I don’t know how I know, but I am positive. It is not a boy.”

His certainty made her smile. “Alright. If - and only if - you’re wrong, would you accept Junius as a masculine alternative?”

He shrugged, elegant shoulders rising and falling. “What’s wrong with Juno for… whatever?”

“ _Fine._ ” Hermione rolled her eyes and twisted around to rest her head on his thigh. “Juno it is. And for a middle name?”

“Something simple,” he suggested, “perhaps floral. Heather?”

“Juno Heather Granger-Snape.” Hermione tested it on her tongue. “Not quite right. Juno _tsk_ Granger-Snape sounds better. One syllable.”

“Rose?” The moment he said it, he grimaced. “No. The vowels are in the pattern _Oh, Oh, Eh, Eh._ Too symmetrical.”

They thought together in comfortable silence, chewing and musing.

“Phlox?” Severus suggested, to Hermione’s outright laughter.

“Unique, but _ridiculous_.”

Experimentally, he tried it anyway. “Juno Phlox Granger-Snape.” Severus spat it out as if it had a bad taste. “Never mind. It’s rather a mouthful.”

“And don’t you _dare_ suggest Moss _,”_ Hermione returned, and sighed. “How about Sage?”

“Juno Sage Granger-Snape.” Severus leaned forward and poured them some raspberry squash. “That isn’t too bad.”

“Let’s settle for ‘not too bad,’ shall we?” Hermione pointed out, and grinned as he shook his head ruefully. “I like the idea of floral names. Let’s experiment with a larger palette.” Hermione pondered a moment, and smiled. “I don’t mind three syllables. Juno _tsk tsk tsk_ Granger-Snape. Or four: Juno _tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk_ Granger-Snape.”

“I notice you’re skipping two.” Her eyes shot up to look at him, and he seemed to be amused at the idea. “Not even allowing us to dabble in _my_ ancient history.”

She shared his amusement. At this point in their marriage, they both had good humor about his former love interest in Lily Evans. “No. It wasn’t my plan, but sure, let’s go with that.”

“Take a compliment, woman,” he growled, but leaned down and kissed her forehead tenderly. “Plumeria.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “Not a fan. Something English would be best. Something we can grow.” 

“Alyssum.”

She nodded. “I can live with that. It flows well. Juno Alyssum Granger-Snape.”

He didn’t seem impressed. “Monarda?” 

She snorted. “Our daughter, the potions ingredient.”

Severus pretended to be offended. “Oh, and I suppose you’d object to _Allium_ or _Anethum_ , too?”

He chuckled. She swatted playfully at him. “I wouldn’t want our daughter to be put in a soup.”

“ _Alas_ ,” he said faux-mournfully, with excessive drama, “my cannibalistic plans have been _thwarted_ . How _ever_ will I _cope_ with this _travesty_?” 

“You won’t starve,” Hermione observed with a giggle, and turned over to press her face into his soft abdomen.

“Hmph.”

He didn’t argue or shift, but gently stroked her hair with his free hand. 

“Veronica,” he offered as they resumed their conversation at hand.

“No,” Hermione groaned, wrapping her arms around him and snuggling deeper into his lap. “That was the name of my babysitter in elementary. But I do like the V sound.”

He contemplated this, staring at the woodland floor ahead of them. “I see. How about Violet?”

“Juno Violet Granger-Snape.” Hermione took a breath, then repeated it. “Juno Violet Granger-Snape. It’s… almost perfect. I just wish there wasn’t that hard _t_ at the end of Violet.”

Severus waved a hand. “Easy enough. Viola.”

“Juno Viola Granger-Snape.”

Hermione’s face ushered in a bright happiness. “Sev, I think we have it.”

He picked up her hand and kissed it, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. “If it so pleases you, my darling.”

“Sev.”

He opened his eyes and looked down at her. She read distance in his expression, and she knew she needed to draw him back.

“She’s your daughter, too. It matters what you think.”

The words seemed to catch on the wind; a breeze ticked back his loose strands of hair and she caught a sight of his intense inner struggle between perturbance and peace.

But it seemed that peace won out, for he opened his eyes and gave his wife a devilish half-smile. “You’re entirely correct, my love. I think it’s perfect, too.”

..........................

They bicycled back in a bit of hurry, as night seemed to come upon them faster than anticipated. It made Hermione nervous to glance behind them and see only shadows of dark trees, half-stripped of leaves. But she’d glance back over to her husband, who seemed to notice her discomfort, and he kept giving her warm half-smiles of silent encouragement.

As she led the way, her unconscious fear driving her ever forward, she suddenly saw a dark animal running directly in her path. With a scream, she braked hard. For a moment she thought she’d successfully avoided the accident, but then before she could get her foot down to stand properly, the whole damned bicycle tipped over in a nearly comical manner. 

“Hermione!”

Severus practically threw his bicycle onto the road as he bounded to her side. He looked as white as the proverbial sheet. “Are you hurt?” 

She took a few shaky breaths, reaching out in the darkness for his hand. “I… I think I’m alright.” 

To her horror, instead of finding her husband to help her up, her fingers touched something furry, cold, and wet. She leapt up with another cry of alarm. 

“It’s the dog,” Severus said reassuringly, pulling her up and into his arms. She felt his warm wool jacket and began to count the buttons up and down it, in some kind of meditative panic exercise. “It’s just the dog, love.”

For her part, Maude seemed deeply distraught by the commotion, and she barked questioningly at the couple. Now that Hermione could see a little better, the dog was cautiously wagging her tail, and she invasively pressed her moist nose into Hermione’s crotch, as if in an apparent attempt to figure what she’d done wrong. 

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s not polite,” Hermione murmured to the dog once her breath was slowing to normal, redirecting the dog’s nose from the inappropriate area. “You just gave me a fright, love. Oh, yes, you’re a good girl. Yes, you’re a good girl.” She disentangled herself from Severus slightly to scratch behind the dog’s ears. 

“She’s _not_ a good girl,” Severus growled protectively.

“She is, though,” Hermione answered, realizing what had happened. “She sat here and waited for us to come home. It’s not her fault I can’t see in the dark.”

“We need to equip ourselves with some proper lights,” Severus returned, though she could tell he disapproved of her interpretation of events. “I can’t imagine what would have happened, had that been a wild boar or somesuch.”

“Well, all’s well that ends well.” Hermione closed her eyes and took some deep, stabilizing breaths. The autumn air was getting cold now, and she was eager to be home. “We’re not far off. Come along, Maude. We’ll give you some beef stew, that’s a girl.”

Severus chuckled stiffly. “Are you volunteering me for the task of making such a thing?”

“Oh,” Hermione said, getting up on her bicycle and haltingly re-assuming her saddle. “There’s the frozen stuff you made last week.”

“So there is.” Relief palpable in his voice, Severus also mounted. With that, the two of them wandered their merry way home. And while the autumn cold began to tease their noses and fingers, they both shared visions of warm food and soft couches, and tender embraces to carry them there. 

..........................

They landed on the sofa in a tangle of limbs, a shaggy faux-fur blanket, and a shaggy real-fur dog. 

“I hate how she smells,” Severus complained, but he seemed to be warming up to the creature. His long fingers delicately scratched the animal under her chin, and Maude was thumping her hind leg in a demonstration of immense satisfaction.

“She likes you, though.” 

Hermione put a bowl of the microwaved beef stew on the ground, and the dog eagerly parted from them to lap up the hot gravy. 

She gave Severus and her each one too, layered on top of polenta, and she achingly sniffed it. “I love the mushrooms in it.” 

He didn’t respond at first, then seemed to remember the existence of such a courtesy. “Thanks,” he answered, vigorously inhaling a hearty bite. His body seemed to relax in enjoyment. “It’s simple but nourishing.” 

They shared some contemplative quiet for some minutes as they mulled over their meals. 

“I appreciate how much you worried about me,” Hermione observed, her nose and fingers finally starting to feel warm again. “It was sweet.” 

“As I believe I’ve articulated before,” Severus murmured, wrapping one lazy arm around her, “I am not interested in surviving my life’s greatest gift.” 

The words were spoken with tranquil neutrality, but the meaning still sent a pang through her heart. 

It wasn’t entirely unreasonable, given their age difference, to expect that he would pass first of the two of them. But it was still depressing to think about.

“We have _so much_ before that will likely happen.” They’d had this conversation several times before, and she still did not have a pat response to his casual references to his mortality. “What’s got your mind on this?” she explored, trying to understand where he was coming from. 

He shrugged, staring at the empty fireplace in front of them. Then, he stood, placed his empty bowl on the arm of the sofa, and kneeled down at the hearth. 

It seemed like he’d forgotten the question, but once the fire was started, he rose and brushed his hands off. His eyes glinted in the firelight. 

“Autumn is a time of loss, in my experience,” he stated, not looking at his wife. “Minerva passed in October last year. Lily died on Halloween. My mother died in November. Even the trees lose their greenery in autumn. Summer ends, and all we are left with is cold and hunger.” 

“Oh, love.” Hermione put down her bowl and rose to wrap her arms around him from behind. He seemed tight and straight, and she felt his heartbeat pounding where her face pressed against his shoulders. “I didn’t think of that.” 

“But, I suppose I shouldn’t think like that,” Severus counseled himself. “You are the greatest thing that autumn has ever birthed, Hermione. And I grant you that autumn has been the time of many new beginnings for the both of us.” 

“That’s right,” Hermione murmured, gently swaying back and forth with him. “Autumn is a sad time. I appreciate you seeing both sides of it.” 

“I’m trying not to be the miserable git I used to be.” He turned around and accepted her warm embrace, pressing a kiss upon her curly hair. “You bring out the best of me.” 

“And you of me.” Hermione sighed, relaxing into him, appreciating his solid presence. “And our little Juno Viola will bring out the best of both of us.” 

He pressed a finger underneath her chin so that their eyes could meet. “Indeed,” was all he said, and then he offered his lips to her in a hungry, passionate gesture. She returned the favor, and they remained there until Maude began whinging at the front door. 

“Oh, all _right_ ,” Severus grumbled, marching over to the door and opening it graciously. “May the road rise up to meet you, Maude.” 

The dog gave a prescient bark in response, and happily trotted out into the autumn darkness as a gust of wind sent a spiral of dry leaves over the threshold. 

Neither Hermione nor Severus noticed, however - with a slam of the door, Severus was dragging Hermione into the bedroom while his wife delightedly pretended to protest. 

……………………….. 


End file.
